Oblique
by dawnsfire
Summary: *Does* she know what she's doing to him? Rated for mild suggestive themes. I decided to take a swing at a few more chapters.
1. Ice Cream

Set anywhere after Season 2. You know, if I owned them, I might still write fanfic--just to play with people's minds. But alas, I don't, so this is just a random bit of fluffiness.

* * *

It was a sweltering day in Washington, DC, and Dr. Temperance Brennan and Special Agent Seeley Booth were both tired and hot and bordering on cranky, since the AC in the SUV had broken down. Though neither would ever admit to being "cranky"!

"Whaddya say we get some ice cream, Bones," he finally suggested, seeing a vendor at the edge of a park they were passing. "My treat."

She fanned herself with the case file. "That actually sounds good. Let's eat it outside, though--the SUV's practically an oven."

He pulled over and parked. "I wish we could go to a real ice cream place," he said wistfully, "but we don't have the time."

She shook her head and adjusted her ponytail. "If the vending machine in the Jeffersonian was currently stocked, I'd say we should just go back there. But it was washed out before lunch."

"Cleaned out," he corrected her automatically. "So what do you want?"

She studied the menu carefully, making sure she stood out of the way of the children lined up to buy the same thing. "A Drumstick."

"I'd've thought you'd gone for the Dove bar at the very least. Two," he told the man at the window. "We'll keep it simple."

He handed her one cone and they found a bench with a tiny amount of shade. She unwrapped it neatly, pulling the paper off in a careful spiral about halfway down. Booth chuckled. "You're one of those. I suppose you unwrap presents carefully, too."

"Of course." Her aquamarine eyes twinkled as she nipped away the chocolate and nuts at the top. "Our society is so 'instant gratification' that no one understands the pleasures of anticipation anymore." Her tongue snaked out and caught a rivulet of melting ice cream, then swirled about the line where the cone met the ice cream.

Booth watched mesmerized, then shook himself free. "Certain things should be enjoyed immediately," he countered. "Your ice cream, for example. It'll melt before you can get it all. Christmas morning and birthday presents are another. Those giving the gifts are eager to see if they have given you what you want. Ripping them open is hardly just an example of instant gratification."

"Oh, I don't know. Few children think of that on Christmas, and childhood is when we set many of our habits. In this case, that's it's all right to rip and tear out of greed." She continued to lick at the cone, somehow managing to stay just ahead of the melt rate.

"But a good parent makes sure a child knows there are limits. That you can't simply grab what you want all the time," he retorted, eyes locked on her mouth. The show she was unknowingly providing was driving him nuts. His imagination went into overdrive, imagining her with something besides ice cream, and his body twitched. "You have to wait for the present to be given before ripping into it."

"We both know that not all parents are good ones. You are; I'm guessing that Rebecca is a good mother to Parker, no matter her relationship with you. My own parents, before they left, were good ones."

That admission made him pause. _I don't think I've ever heard her say that!_

"At least in regards to us. Their after-hours activities weren't right for anyone, much less parents." She studied the rest of the cone, then tipped the end into her mouth to suck on it briefly and Booth had to use his napkin to stifle a groan. "It really is too bad that we see so many bad or incompetent parents in our line of work. Or at least the results of bad parenting. I almost forget there are good ones, so I'm glad I have you as a reminder," she added before licking the ice cream again. She tipped it back into her mouth, this time to take a bite. "I may not want children, but I can appreciate the labor and admire those who know what they're doing with them."

He yanked his eyes away and looked straight ahead of him. There was a playground near the center of the park and he watched the children playing for a while. His own cone was half gone. "Thanks, Bones. I'm never sure I'm doing a good job with Parker, so that's really nice to hear. Even from a non-expert such as yourself. But are you going to tell me that you never ripped open a present in your life?"

"Maybe when I was 5." He grinned at her and she laughed. "All right. I suppose I ripped more than a few open when I was a little girl. I learned to go slow later, when I rarely got anything, and it was always just one. I had to learn how to…savor the moment. And after that, my grandfather wanted me to save the paper." She bit into the cone and sucked away the melting ice cream behind it.

"Speaking of that, Bones, I've been meaning to ask if you want me to look into your grandfather as well as your aunts." Anything to take his mind--and other parts--off that too-nimble tongue!

"Why?"

"Didn't you ever think about the inconsistencies? You're told you have no other relatives, but your grandfather gets you out of foster care? Mother's father or father's father? I couldn't find anything about him in your file." He was genuinely curious, and it made a great distraction. Her family provided him with headaches on a regular basis. Surely that could curb his burgeoning arousal. _Please?_ he begged to anyone listening.

She frowned.

"Not to mention, if he knew you as Temperance Brennan and not Joy Keenan, then he must have had some knowledge of your parents' activities. At least that there had been a name change."

"I never thought of that part of it." She turned and laid a hand on his knee, making every nerve in his system shrill to alert. _So much for distraction!_

"Yes, please. Even if you can't get much, you might give me enough detail for me to get a--straight?--answer out of my dad later. Is that right?"

"Absolutely. And glad to do it." He stifled another groan as she turned her attention back to the cone, which had begun to drip over her fingers as they talked. Did she have _any _idea what she was doing to him? _Think about what steps you're going to have to take to do this_, he told himself firmly. _Recite the multiplication tables or the Steelers' lineup for the last 10 years--anything!_

--

Brennan licked her fingers free of the last of the ice cream, then wiped them on the napkin. "I'm done." She stood and held out her hand for his wrapper. "I'll go ahead and toss all of it. That was a good idea, stopping like this, Booth. My treat next time, though."

"Thanks," he ground out, handing her his wrapper and napkin. She swayed over to the receptacle, feeling Booth's eyes on her the whole time, and a wicked grin played over her lips. _Wonder what it'll take for him to cross his line? He drew it; it's his to erase. All I can do is indicate my willingness to have it disappear._


	2. Setup

Almost forgpt the disclaimer! Do I need to repeat it every chapter?

Anyway, this was inspired by the teasers they ran for November. This one in particular promises to be interesting!

* * *

"So, Booth," Max asked in a casual tone that should have put the FBI agent on the alert, "are you sleeping with my daughter?"

"No," Booth answered with a faint grin. _Why is he asking me this?_

"Why? Are you gay?"

Booth snorted, dumbfounded, an incredulous grin plastered on his face. "No," he said again, half-whispering. _Gay? _"Give me a break, Max." _Does he honestly think I want to talk about what I want to do with his daughter with him? Not that Bones wouldn't hurt me in some way if she even knew this discussion was going on_. "Shouldn't you be doing whatever it is they hired you to do?" he parried, fiddling with the poker chip in his pocket. Max merely chuckled and moved past him, straightening his jacket.

Once he was out of sight, Booth put his head in his hands resignedly. _I'm going to be grey soon, between Max and Jared. And Bones. Always Bones. She's half 'touch me' and half 'don't even think about it' and I never know which side's waiting for me when I walk in. Not that I haven't learned how to deal with each mood, but still, the not knowing's killing me. Not to mention that if Max really knew how I'd like to touch her, he _would _kill me._ He sighed. _Lord, give me strength_.

*****************************************

"That was perfect, Dad," Brennan said in the car later that night.

"Not that ragging on Booth isn't fun, but remind why you're doing it this way?"

She shrugged. "A couple years ago, he drew this line. Professional partners aren't supposed to cross it because it could lead to danger; if a pair were romantically involved, someone could threaten or harm one partner to get at the other."

"There is some truth to that. But there's more truth in the fact that anyone in a dangerous job like that could put any partner, professional or not, at risk. Not to mention you've garnered your own set of enemies. Your mom and I talked about that, too. We decided it wasn't right for anyone to close themselves out so completely from the world, and it was better if the risk was knowingly shared." Max studied her carefully. "You and Booth are the same way without being married. If anyone spent enough time studying you, they would know a strike at Booth will rouse you as sure as a strike at you would get Booth up and running. I've seen the one and heard about the other."

She colored slightly at the reminder of her beating on the bounty hunter and then lying to the FBI, but managed to answer calmly. "I know that, too, Dad. I was there, remember? But he drew the line right after Howard Epps poisoned Cam and Booth was feeling guilty that he had rushed her on the case _and _been involved with her. If I hadn't been sure about the way he felt, that discussion settled it for me." _I suppose that might be an example of putting the heart into overdrive._ That was actually a little scary--that her first real foray into that realm--Booth's domain--had not only been done unconsciously, but that it was for her partner. An entire year before he urged her to do that for her father.

"Boy wasn't thinking straight."

"That was my perception as well," she agreed. "But he drew that line--"

"So you want him to erase it. Sounds an awful lot like psychology, Tempe," he said with a wink and she blushed.

* * *

Thanks to the lovely & talented blc for the beta'ing! Go read her stories if you haven't already--they're fantastic!


	3. Operation: GMan pt1

Once again, in chorus: They're not mine, not mine, not mine...

Basically, I've set most of these in S4. This and the next one are near the end or just after, since I have hopes that Angela will come to her senses and return to Jack, who obviously loves her. (not that I don't also hope he makes her grovel a bit first). Thanks again to blc for the beta'ing.

* * *

"Dr. Hodgins!" Brennan shouted across the room. "My office!"

"Whoa! What's with Bones?" Booth asked, watching Hodgins move slowly across the lab. "Did he do something wrong?" Angela shrugged.

"Not him personally," the artist replied. "But maybe we should head over there just in case."

They got to the door just in time. "Why the hell can't you get the Cantilever Group to simply donate without doing all this socializing?" she demanded, pacing back and forth, ignoring Booth and Angela for the moment. "You're the primary donor, and maybe we could forgo all of this foolishness."

"Ah, I get it," Booth whispered. "Another gala affair?"

Angela nodded, sympathetic eyes on her fiancé. "Bren probably told you she was trying to set a date to go visit Russ and his family. The date the Board picked is also the date Bren and Russ finally settled on. She was looking forward to it, and you know how she--hell, all of us--feels about attending these things."

"Yeah, I know. Press the flesh, 'yes, I work with dead bodies,' 'no, I am not sick or depressed'…"

"And in Bren's case, stupid questions about her writing. 'Where _do _you get your ideas, Miss Brennan?'" she squeaked.

They both groaned.

"I keep telling her she needs a pat answer, and if it makes them feel stupid, more power to her. Something like an idea of the month club, or a catalog of characters out of Poughkeepsie. Something like that."

"Which begs the question, where the hell is Poughkeepsie?" She grinned at him.

"Dr. Brennan, you know the Board of the Jeffersonian makes those decisions," Hodgins was saying. "I don't require the Cantilever people to attend, but _my _Board would be upset if I forbade them; they want to make sure they're getting the company's money's worth. And it wouldn't make any difference even if I did refuse to have Cantilever people attend. We aren't the only donors."

"Just the main ones." She dropped into her chair with a defeated sigh. "I don't mean to yell at you, Jack. I know it's not your fault. I just dislike the atmosphere. I don't socialize that well. And if one more person asks me how can I work with dead bodies or even how I can then turn around and write about them, I may scream."

"And don't forget the dancing," Angela said brightly. Brennan shuddered.

"I'd like to, believe me."

"Booth, you go with her," the artist said, inspired. "Protect her from the grabby hands of strangers."

"Ange!" Brennan hissed as both men stiffened.

"Grabby?" Booth demanded. "What, they think their money entitles them to cop a feel?"

"What?" Hodgins blurted at the same time.

Brennan and Angela looked away from the men, the latter whistling softly.

"I'm going," Booth and Hodgins said at the same time.

"Booth, you needn't come if you don't want to," Brennan said. "I can take care of myself."

"You can't break wrists at an affair like this, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. "They aren't Epps; nowhere near as creepy. Just--annoying. And you can't shoot anyone, either."

"Dude, you can't even threaten them," Hodgins chuckled.

"Hey, a suitable escort should prevent most problems," Angela soothed, making Brennan frown. "And a good glower should keep most of them in place. Especially if you're always hovering."

"Look, Bones. If a da--a companion will keep people off your backs, just take one. It doesn't have to be me," he added with an unreadable expression. "But I can go, if you'd like. After all, I am the FBI liaison to the Jeffersonian. Consider it part of the bodyguard services I try to provide. I could even arrest them for assault, if anyone gets too handsy." He gave her his charm smile, and the other two watched her try not to melt under it.

"More gossip," Brennan sighed, dropping her face into her hands. But when she looked up, her eyes were glittering with barely-suppressed annoyance. "Just what we need. Fine. Fine! Booth, you may come with me if you want. Formal wear, as in tuxedo. And, hopefully for the last time, you are not to say Andy Lister is based on you! He isn't, and I'm always asked. Got it?"

"Got it, Dr. Brennan," Booth answered, saluting in mock-formality. "Shall I pick you up?"

"No, if we're all going, then I'll provide a limo. We can get smashed at the end if we want and not have to worry about it," Jack said. "Should we pick you up at your place, Dr. B?"

"That'll be fine," she said, turning to her computer. "Just tell me when."

"I'd like to know who they are, though, Bones," Booth said, leaning over the desk toward her. Angela dropped onto the couch to watch, sketchpad out.

"Who?" Brennan wondered, concentrating on her screen.

He gave a her a knowing look. "Those with more money than manners. The gropers," he clarified as she looked up at him.

"I'd like to know that too, Ange," Hodgins said, sitting next to her, face serious. "Am I going to have to be a CEO and send people off to a sexual harassment seminar? Or worse, fire them?"

"No one from the Cantilever Group has laid a hand on me since we got engaged--the first time," Angela said, laying her hand on Jack's leg warningly.

"I have to agree that your people are considerably better behaved," Brennan said, looking back at her computer. "Some of the others forget where the appropriate places for hands are when dancing. But it doesn't really matter," she added dismissively. "Most of the men simply notice that I am unaccompanied and wish to take advantage of that. I suppose part of it is due to the fact that I am a best-selling author."

"So you often remind us," Booth murmured, perching on the edge of her desk. She sighed, but he refused to budge. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you are a smart and attractive woman, would it, Bones?"

Her face took on that faintly pleased and surprised expression she got when complimented, and the blue in her changeable eyes became more pronounced. No matter how often he praised her, she would always get that look on her face.

"I would rather they were interested in my work," she said wistfully, leaning back in her chair, and interrupting his thoughts. "Forensic Anthropology is my primary calling, no matter how I use it. Writing was just--a nice sideline, an enjoyable habit, until it got published. I still like it, but the demands change it a bit. But everyone seems to think that it should be the more important thing because it brings fame and money."

"That's our society," Angela told her. "Fame and money rule."

"Sad but true," Booth agreed. "Remember what I said about Delaney leaving public service and earning a lot more money than I do that time?"

She nodded. "But public service jobs are so much more important--" she started, then cut herself off. "I'm preaching to the chorus, aren't I?"

"Choir," the others corrected her. Angela laughed. "You are, sweetie. Why else do you think Jack and I still work here? Or Booth with the FBI? You and I and Hodgie--we don't have to work here; you don't even have to work if you don't want to," she said, nudging Hodgins affectionately. "And a man with your talents, G-Man, could find lucrative work elsewhere, if you really wanted to." She raised a hand to cut them off as they started to protest. "You make a difference in the world, a positive one, and that's your true calling, Bren, Booth. And speaking of work," she added pointedly, "we had better get some done before lunch time or Cam will be all over us. Did you decide where you wanted to go, sweetie?"

"That new vegan place I was telling you about," Brennan replied and smiled up at her partner. "Sorry, Booth, I actually do have a lunch date today as you can see. And a date with my laptop tonight."

"Let me know if you need a break and I'll bring over the Thai," he promised her. "Otherwise, I'll call if we get a case." Her eyes danced at the thought as she waved him out. Hodgins followed, muttering something about test results.

**********************************

"I wish you hadn't said anything about the gropers, Ange," Brennan murmured once they were gone.

"I had no idea they would react that way. But it made Booth all the more willing to tag along, didn't it?" she replied with a smirk.

"I just have to make sure he doesn't shoot anyone!" But she was laughing herself as she opened her email. "And yes, I caught his little slip-up; you don't have to say any more. This…might just work."

**************************

Hodgins' computer _dinged_, indicating an incoming email. _Nice job, Jack. Thanks. TB_


	4. Operation: GMan pt2

Sorry for the delay in posting this--the muse was not so cooperative as I'd like. Anyway, I hope the length makes up for it. That, and the promise that ch.5 has been started. Disclaimers in previous chapters--why should I repeat such a depressing thought?

Thanks to blc for the beta'ing, some concepts, and at least one line.

* * *

Hodgins chuckled in the elevator up to Dr. Brennan's apartment as Booth fidgeted with his tux. "Man, this feels just like prom," he said. "Complete with at least one nervous date. Relax, dude; it's not like her father's going to be there."

"This isn't a date, Hodgins," Booth growled, rolling his eyes. _What is with the squints these days?_

The entomologist grinned even wider as the doors slid open. "Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say." He rapped sharply on Brennan's door, which was opened almost immediately by Angela.

"Wow," he said and stepped inside and took her into his arms. "I take it back, Booth. My prom date looked nothing like this!"

Angela, in a daringly cut gown of purple with jeweled earrings nearly brushing her shoulders, but still barefoot, laughed, extricating herself. "Prom? You're comparing this to prom? Please don't mention that to the other donors, Jack. Or Cam." She looked over Booth appreciatively. "Wow. The top studs of the Jeffersonian and the FBI both together in the same room. So hot," she decided. "A tux is a nice look on you, Booth."

"Thanks, Ange," he replied, refraining from tugging on it again--it was only his imagination that his holster was apparent. "You're looking great, as always."

"Thanks, hun. We're not quite ready--you're early," she said. "So, sit, and we'll only be a few more minutes."

"Beer, Hodgins?" Booth asked, opting to stand as she sashayed away, Hodgins' eyes following her appreciatively.

"No beer, Booth," Brennan called from her bathroom. "We really won't be that much longer."

"Spoilsport," he muttered. He paced around the room as Jack settled on the couch, amused at their interaction.

--------

"We were almost done, weren't we?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, sweetie. But it can be good to keep a man waiting sometimes, even if it's not supposed to be a date. But brace yourself--Booth looks good enough to eat." She waggled her eyebrows.

"Hopefully I match him, then." She smoothed her gown, applied a touch more color to her mouth. "I don't know--were the fake nails really necessary?"

"Yes," Angela said emphatically. "I found the shortest ones, so you shouldn't have any problems."

"I did wear them in Vegas," Brennan reminded her. "I just don't find them all that comfortable."

"And that's why you were still wearing them when you came back. Trust me, sweetie--they finish off the look. The look _you _wanted, as I recall."

Brennan rolled her eyes as Angela stepped into her own heels.

"Come on, let's go knock his bright socks right off so we can get this party started."

--------

Both men turned when they heard the door open behind them. Angela was first, now with shoes and a little purse. "Wraps are in the closet, Hodgie. Mine's the gold one."

Jack got up and fetched them, tossing a black one at Booth and wrapping the other around his fiancée. "You really do look great," he murmured and she kissed his cheek.

"Wait 'til you see Bren. If _he _doesn't fall over from lack of blood to the brain, I'll eat my purse," she muttered too low for Booth to hear.

Booth gave Angela an appreciative nod at her finished appearance and waited patiently. He rarely saw his partner in formal dress and couldn't help wondering what she was likely to wear. Hopefully not the black lace number she had worn to the White House. "Bones, where are you?" he called, checking his watch.

"Coming," she called back. There was a click of heels as she left the bathroom and made her way into the living room. "I had a last minute adjustment," she explained, pausing in the doorway as Angela had instructed.

Booth gaped and Jack whistled. The good doctor wore a long, body-skimming, emerald green dress, slit high on one side. Her hair had been pulled into a loose knot with curls tumbling out of it, held in place with malachite-studded clips. More malachite and silver hung from her ears and about her neck, accentuating her fair skin.

Booth finally managed to swallow. "You look--you look great, Bones," he said, trying to keep his cool. Something about the dress reminded him of the black number she had worn in Vegas, and the makeup, while not as heavy, gave her that same smoky look. The shoes, too, added to the effect--the heels were just as high as those she had complained about while they were there. _What did I do, Lord, to be punished like this? _he silently asked. "That shade of green is definitely your color," he managed to say coherently. Some part of his brain apparently not affected by blood loss noted that she was definitely worth waiting for, even if it had been another hour.

"Thank you, Booth," She examined him as carefully as he had looked her over. "I must say that you fill out your tuxedo in an admirable fashion." She stifled a grin at the quick glimpse she got of his gaudy yellow and green socks, the sole flicker of his usual individuality.

He blushed hot as he held out the lacy wrap. While her back was to him, she exchanged a wink with her co-conspirators.

"Dr. B., you and Ange will be the loveliest--and hottest--women there. Booth and I will have to guard your backs from more than over-eager suitors tonight!"

"I don't--"

"He means there'll be a lot of women jealous of you two," Booth explained, having regained control over his tongue.

"Oh, you mean a cat fight?"

"Now, how do you know what a cat fight is?" he demanded. She simply smiled at him, pleased to note that the heels (that she had practiced walking in all week--she rarely wore stilettos) brought her to almost his height--their mouths were nearly level.

--------

Out in the hall, Angela and Jack stood by the elevator waiting as Brennan locked her door. Booth was hovering as he usually did, but his ogling was considerably less subtle than usual.

"Operation: G-Man is well under way," he murmured, pleased.

"You're right, Hodgie--conspiracies _can _be fun," she agreed, squeezing his arm.

"And this is the best kind to be involved in," he added.

When she turned, dropping her key into her clutch, Booth had his expression under control again. She flicked a glance at Angela who grinned widely with a quick nod. Brennan looked away from Booth as she felt a pleased smirk start.

--------

The ride over was quiet and uneventful, save for the hot-eyed glances Booth kept throwing at Brennan. She coolly ignored them for the most part, talking to Hodgins and Angela about who was expected and what they should say.

"What does the lab really need?" she finally asked. "Did Cam make a list?"

"She mentioned something about a CT scanner."

"That would aid in our examinations," Brennan said approvingly. "That would probably be the primary need, though I did hear of an improvement on the discharge vents, too. Increase the sensitivity."

Booth rolled his eyes and Angela chuckled. "How about another topic," she suggested. "I don't think we're all over the whole Christmas lockdown thing yet."

"Sorry, Booth," Brennan said, settling back into the plush seating next to him.

--------

_What is that perfume? _he wondered as she sat back. _Not her usual scent, that's for sure…It should be illegal, it smells so good_. The rest of the trip was short and uneventful as the three brought Booth up to speed on what to expect otherwise.

The chauffeur opened the door and Jack helped Angela out. Booth hesitated, not sure of her reaction, then followed suit. "Lady Temperance," he murmured and she smiled at him.

"Sir Seeley," she replied in equally low tones as she took his hand. He took a deep breath as she stepped out, as the slit in her dress displayed quite a bit more skin than he was used to. Nothing indecent, just…more. Mouth-wateringly more. Once out of the car, she kicked the skirt to make it fall properly, then slid her hand into the crook of his arm like she had in London. "You would make a gallant knight, in the best chivalrous--if fictional--fashion," she told him. "Too bad you only have me, and not someone more…appreciative."

He let a little smile curl about his mouth. "Why, Lady Temperance, surely you would be more than enough for any man, knight or not." He wondered how far she would let him go with it; he was enjoying it, but it was always hard to tell with Bones. _Better not push it_, he decided.

She smiled back, cheeks pinking. "You're too kind," she murmured.

Inside, they found they were the last of the Medico-Legal group to arrive. Since Brennan had not yet settled on a permanent intern, there were none in sight. Cam was already in full schmooze-mode, chatting up the new Senator from Illinois.

As the four entered the room, she detached herself graciously and made her way over to meet them.

"I thought you weren't coming," she scolded lightly.

"Traffic," Booth said, not batting an eye.

"As always," Brennan seconded. She removed her wrap and Cam's eyes bulged slightly.

"Some dress, Dr. Brennan."

"Thank you, Dr. Saroyan. You look quite nice as well," she added after a slight hesitation. Cam's shimmery blue dress suited her very well, if not as daringly cut as her own or Angela's.

"Glad you could make it, Seeley," Cam said, nodding at him.

"No problem, Camille," he replied. "Just a little inter-organization support. You ladies of the Medico-Legal Lab are all looking lovely tonight. Maybe I should attend more of these, if only for the scenery!"

Cam chuckled politely, seeing where his eyes kept returning to. He might enjoy "standin' on the corner, watchin' all the girls go by," but his attentions were set. That was plain to anyone with eyes. She shrugged and turned to her team.

"Dr. Brennan, make sure you talk to the Lees, Lorania Tripp, Michael James, and Congressman Jones. There's also a new representative from the Binot Foundation you should meet--a Patrick Moore. And if you have a chance, Katrina O'Neal."

Brennan grimaced. "Michael James? Cam, I--"

"No choice, Dr. Brennan. Besides, he'll likely come after you anyway, since he's such a big fan of your work. No sense in duplicating effort."

She groaned. Cam rattled on.

"We need their donations, all of you know that. In the current economy, we can't expect the government to pick up the slack, and I know none of us want to see our efficiency affected. A CT scanner would be great help, and some of the instruments could use upgrading--we need to stay on top of the game, people!"

Angela pouted, Hodgins scowled, and Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Who's Michael James?" Booth whispered in her ear as Cam gave Angela and Jack their assignments.

"A Jeffersonian 'angel' who thinks he is, what did Ange say? 'All that and a bag of chips'? Every time I see him, he tries to ask me out, and he's very persistent."

He thought for a moment. "If you approach him, bring me along. Isn't that why you asked me to come?" A faint smile crossed her face. "You can signal me if you want the help otherwise. I'll keep an eye on you." _As I always do_.

"Of course, feel free to talk to anyone else," Cam finished.

Brennan sighed and smoothed her dress. "Have you seen Mrs. Tripp?" she asked Cam resignedly.

--------

"Oh, Dr. Brennan, just a moment of your time," someone called as she was turning away from the older woman. "Please!"

She turned back to see a new face. "Yes?" she asked cautiously. These affairs were usually very well-screened, but there had been some odd letters sent to her via her publisher recently that she hadn't told Booth about.

_I might just regret that_, she thought briefly as she looked him over. Young, probably younger than…Zack, she decided. But attractive in an inexperienced way, and dressed very well in a tuxedo that had plainly been tailored to him; and he had a metallic orange tie instead of the usual black or white ones. The similarity to Booth in their mutual unorthodox accessories (if nothing else) made her smile slightly. He held a second flute of champagne.

"May I offer you a drink, Dr. Brennan?" he asked, proffering the glass.

She was trying to think of a polite way of refusing when a woman's voice interrupted them.

"Matthew!"

"Mrs. Davidson," Brennan smiled, looking past the boy at the rapidly approaching woman. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight!" The Davidsons owned a prosperous lumber company; Brennan approved of them overall because they worked very hard to not overstress the environment despite the tree-cutting. They owned extensive tree farms in northern Minnesota and Wisconsin, but spent half the year in DC.

"Well, I got back in town just in time," she replied breezily. "I'm afraid Mike couldn't make it--he's tied up back at home. Something to do with a workers' dispute. But, please, call me Krista. Every year I say that to you and every year you don't. This forward lout is my son Matthew."

"Matthew," Brennan said, holding out her hand and barely hiding a smile as he tried to juggle both flutes. Krista finally took pity on him and snagged one so they could shake hands.

"Dr. Brennan," he said. "When Mom said I could come, I was thrilled. The museum's fantastic, and well, I've read your books, too. I don't know how you can do both jobs so well! Dad likes to quote that bit about how a man--or woman in this case--can't truly serve two masters."

"I wouldn't say Dr. Brennan serves two masters," a familiar voice said behind her and she smiled, turning slightly. "While her primary job is to bring names to those who have been lost to time and criminals to justice," Booth continued, with a polite nod at the Davidsons, "her characters do much the same. It was once said that mystery stories were the purest literature we have, since virtue always triumphs in the end."

"I like that, Booth; you'll have to tell me where it comes from," she said, forgetting where they were for a moment.

"A mystery novel called _Strong Poison _by Dorothy L. Sayers," he answered, tilting his head just enough to remind her of their audience.

"I'm sorry; this is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," Brennan introduced him. "Booth, this is Krista Davidson and her son Matthew. Her husband, Michael Davidson, owns Pinewood Lumber. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to attend."

"A pleasure, Agent Booth," Krista said, taking the hand he offered. He smiled at her, not a full charm smile, but enough to make her eyes widen slightly, then flick over to the anthropologist.

Matthew was watching curiously. "I read that you are the inspiration for Andy Lister in the books," he said.

Brennan groaned faintly. But Booth surprised her.

"I wish I could say that in honesty," he chuckled. "But I think she came up with the character before we started working together. I will say, however," he added, eyes twinkling, and she wanted to cringe, "that being partners with me has brought a new depth to her work. Sorry, Bones," he said, looking at her, "but some of your descriptions of the FBI and how we work were a little--distorted."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "All I had until then were secondary sources, and I hadn't had much of a chance to make my own observations. All those obscure terms--BOLO jumps to mind," she smiled.

"Bad as squint talk to the outsider," he agreed blandly and she chuckled. They chatted a bit more, Booth exerting his considerable charm as promised.

"As pleasant as this has been, Mrs--Krista, that is," Brennan corrected herself, "we do have to go speak with some of the others tonight. A pleasure as always, and nice to meet you, Matthew."

"You were looking a little twitchy there, Bones," he murmured in her ear as they parted from mother and son. He tossed a quick look back over his shoulder, but they were also moving on to talk with someone else.

"I usually know the donors, and he was unfamiliar. Quite polite, though," she added.

"He'll probably want to dance in a bit," he judged. "But sufficiently in awe of you to treat you right. Who should I be looking out for?"

She sighed. "Taking that bodyguard business seriously, aren't you?"

He pulled her to the side, hopefully out of earshot. "Always, Bones. And there's something else to it, isn't there?"

"I'll tell you later. Promise." She pulled away and he followed, admiring the way she moved. "Congressman Jones is over there talking to Cam; he can be handsy, was that what you called it? He usually ogles any cleavage showing and occasionally will pat a woman's behind. But he also controls some of the funding for the Jeffersonian."

"So I can't scare him into behaving?"

"Unless you can be subtle about it. The Lees in the other corner are an old donor family and will go on at great length about how they are related to the Lees of the past, even though it's so distant a connection, it's barely worth mentioning. But don't yawn in their faces." She grimaced. "When they're not boasting of their relations, they ask impudent questions about my writing and personal life. I try to answer in the vaguest way I can."

"'Answers answerless'," he murmured and she cocked her head.

"That's--apt, Booth. Where did that one come from?"

"Historical reference--Elizabeth I, I believe."

Her lips pursed slightly before she smiled. "I'm impressed, Booth. History or English major?"

He grinned at her. "History. Renaissance England. _Very _useful in fighting crime. "

"There were criminals and even terrible murders back then, too," she reminded him. "I would imagine that motives haven't changed very much in the intervening centuries. How does that go? '_I am determined to prove a villain/And hate the idle pleasures of these days_'."

"'_Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,/By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams'_," he continued, grinning at her as she tried to keep her jaw from dropping. "As I believe I have said before, I am a _constant _surprise, Bones. Though I always thought Richard III was somewhat misunderstood, and certainly not given fair consideration in the histories. So, who else?"

She scanned the crowd. "Well, you might want to watch out for Mrs. O'Neal. She's over there, throwing herself at Dr. Pryce. I understand from Hodgins and--Zack that she could be grabby as well."

"I'll just stay out of her way, then," he said, deciding to ignore the catch in her voice when she spoke of Zack. That scar was still rather tender.

"I doubt you will be able to, Booth; she's a hunter and you--well, to her you're fresh meat. Just don't let her drag you off into one of the side rooms, please?" He nodded, and she sighed. "I guess we should start with the Lees."

She set off, and he followed her. _This should count as penance the next time I go to Confession_, he thought, watching the swing of her hips and the sway of her curls that alternately hid and revealed the back of her neck to any interested observer. And he was sure there would be many. He sure as hell was interested!

But then the orchestra began an old waltz and he seized his chance. "Bones, wait a minute." She stopped and turned to face him. "Do we need to talk to them just yet? What about a dance first? That is, if you know how to waltz." He offered a charm smile and was heartened to see her smile in response.

"I can waltz, but you might have to compensate for my tendency to lead," she said in all solemnity. "And yes, we may do so first. Just one for now, though."

"Alpha-female," he chided mockingly. "The trick of it is simply to relax and trust me." He swung her out on the floor, joining the handful of couples already present.

He hadn't danced with her since that night in Aurora, the first year they worked together. Then, it had taken them a few moments to move smoothly together; now, it was as slick as if they did this all the time. And he enjoyed very much the feel of her against him, with her perfume intoxicating him even more up close like this. He simply let himself enjoy her company, and hopefully they could have one dance at least before she had to suck up to all those people. _No wonder the Squints hate these things_, he realized.

"I didn't know you could waltz, Booth," she murmured.

"Lots of things you don't know about me, Bones."

"Mm," she responded noncommittally.

They did manage to finish out the waltz before being approached. As the music ended, a tall man came up to them. "Dr. Brennan?" he said in a soft Southern voice. "I'm Patrick Moore."

She shook his hand and made introductions. "Yes, Dr. Saroyan mentioned you. She said you were from the Binot Foundation? I hope JC is well."

"He is, and undoubtedly will be pleased that you asked after him. But he decided he was getting too old to make the rounds anymore." She gave him a polite smile. "Would you like to dance while we talk?" he asked. "That, or we should really get off the floor."

"A dance would be fine," she said. She flapped her hand at Booth and he took the hint, walking off to the side. This Moore seemed all right, courteous enough, so he relaxed a little, accepting a glass from a passing server as he watched them. _Wonder what they're talking about? I don't even know who--or what--the Binot Foundation is, but Bones seems to approve of them._

The music ended and they stayed talking for just another minute; Brennan smiled up at Moore, a smile Booth wished he could see a little more often on her face. It increased her natural beauty to the nth power. _God, I've been hanging around the Squints too long_, he groaned.

To distract himself, he re-focused on Bones, making her way back across the dance floor. She acted the gracious lady of the manor, nodding and exchanging greetings with those she knew along the way. He didn't think anyone else would notice, but the more genuine smile she had worn had faded to a polite stretch of the lips.

His eyes narrowed, though, when another man approached her. _Too pushy by far. No respect for personal space. Would this be the obnoxious Mr. James?_ Somehow, he reminded Booth of the old cartoon wolves with their whistles and howls when a pretty girl came by, though better dressed. A would-be predator of women. Even at this distance he could see the corners of her mouth tighten; but she nodded and let the stranger pull her back among the dancers. He shifted, keeping them in view, masking his intent by exchanging a few words with the handful of squints that he had met, but didn't actually work with.

Bones was hiding her discomfort well enough as the SOB pressed against her much closer than necessary, but… _Probably Cam or someone from the Board's watching_, Booth decided. _Come on, Bones, don't be a martyr here. You'll kick me into next week if I come too soon, I know, but don't make me wait too long_. _Oh, no you don't! _he snapped as the hand that had been placed properly at the small of her back slid down to fondle her. She pushed at him, frowning, then looked over his shoulder, scanning the crowd. _That's enough of a signal for me!_

"Sorry to break in," he said, clapping a hand heavily on the wolf's shoulder. "But Dr. Brennan asked me to remind her of a few other people she needs to chat with this evening. The Lees were next, right, Bones?"

"They were," she replied with admirable composure for someone who had just been groped rather publicly. She made the usual introductions, then excused herself. "I'll be right back, Booth." She squeezed his arm unobtrusively as she walked away. _The ladies' room, probably to straighten up a little_. He turned a ferocious smile on James. "So, what do you do? She didn't have a chance to tell me."

The wolf definitely had his tail between his legs by the time Brennan came back. She noted his cowed expression and ducked her head to hide a smirk. "Come on, Booth, we've got to talk to the Lees now. Nice to see you again, Mr. James." They were out of earshot when she spoke again. "I know I always say I can take care of myself, but I have to admit, it was rather salutary to watch you handle him, Booth."

"Your tax dollars at work," he joked. "Nah, Bones, we're friends and partners. You'd do the same for me, right?"

She slid a smiling sideways glance at him, mystery in her eyes. "I would indeed."

--------

Jack wrapped an arm around Angela, grinning like a loon. "Well, G-Man, you survived, I see."

Booth shook his head, holding Brennan's wrap. Her clutch was tucked into his pocket. "Not sure how." _How long does it take to tell your boss you're leaving? _he wondered. _Maybe I should have stayed with her_.

"Boring as Hell," the entomologist said. "But at least I got to dance with the two loveliest ladies present. And their immediate runner-up."

"And all those obnoxious old biddies, too," Angela said, running her hand along his beard in a more than affectionate fashion. "Don't think I didn't see O'Neal trying to pat you down, boys. My poor baby," she murmured, then kissed Jack. Booth groaned.

"Spare me, please," he begged, not really in the mood for a squinty exhibition of love. Especially not after fending off several women of all ages all evening, who all seemed to have read Bones' books and were interested in the "real Andy Lister," starting with the feisty Katrina O'Neal that Bones had pointed out to him (who was at least old enough to be his mother) and ending with a diminutive redhead with hot eyes who was probably just this side of legal. Maybe. _Inventive offers_, though, he mused, ready to head back into the main ballroom after Bones. _Haven't heard anything quite like that since that club in K-City, back in '91_. _Although I think I now understand why Bones gets so testy with all those assumptions about her books._

"Sorry, Booth," she answered, leaning into Hodgins. "It's how we manage to survive these things; we tell each other--"

"Don't make me shoot you," he said. "I don't need to know that. Don't _want _to know that."

"Don't worry, dude. We'll have the driver drop us off first."

"And then you and Bren can go get it on," Angela added, eyes dancing. She figured she shouldn't completely change her ways just yet, and she really did want it to happen. A little subtle (for her) prodding was totally in keeping. "Hodgie's driver's _very _discreet."

He flushed, and was only saved by Brennan making her own appearance. "I'm ready to go," she announced breathlessly. "Before _Herr _Jurgen catches up with me again. If I have to hear one more thing tonight about his artifact collection, there will be violence," she swore.

"What's wrong with his artifact collection?" Booth wanted to know, wrapping the black lace around her shoulders.

"It's all erotica," Brennan said with a long-suffering sigh, adjusting the wrap slightly. "Chinese jade, Neolithic Venuses, Renaissance paintings, modern art. Some quite classic for their time and place, especially the jades, but the rest--" She shuddered.

"I'm _so _glad I don't speak German," Angela murmured. "Pruriency plus perv swerve equals mega creepy."

"I didn't think sex-talk bothered you, Bones," Booth said with some amusement, but he scanned the crowd, wondering which one was the perverted German and if he was going to have to resort to more extreme measures if the creep showed up.

"It doesn't, not like it does you. It's…the _way _he talks about it. Cam knows we're going; so can we please go?"

"As you wish, Bones." He placed his hand at her back as they walked and could swear she relaxed somewhat.

"_Fraulein Doktor! Fraulein!_" a man's voice hailed them and she stiffened back up again. But they stopped and let the man catch up with them since at least one member of the Board was watching them. _So this is the creepy German? Hmmm, I'd trust him about as far as I could throw him,_ Booth thought, studying the rotund man as dispassionately as Bones studied her skeletons.

"_Fraulein _Brennan, surely you aren't leaving just yet?" he asked in heavily-accented English, ignoring Booth utterly.

"I am; it's late and I have work tomorrow," she assured him. "_Herr _Jurgen, let me present to you my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. Booth, this is _Herr _Selig Jurgen."

"FBI?" Booth thought maybe he was slightly taken aback. "A pleasure, _Herr _Booth."

"_Herr _Jurgen." They shook hands and Jurgen flinched. Brennan hid a quick smile.

He said something in German, trying to pull her away.

"_Nein_, _nein_," she protested, stepping back towards Booth, then rattled off a quick spate of German back.

Booth felt a surge of resentment and stepped forward, wrapping an arm about her waist protectively. "I would hate to interrupt what I'm sure would be a stimulating conversation," he said blandly, "but Dr. Brennan is right about needing to leave. There's a case we've been working on." He used his best _I don't want to hurt you buddy but I will if I have to _look, and discovered it was just as useful at galas as at interrogations, as Jurgen faltered back a few steps, letting go of Bones as he did. "And the bad guys don't wait for us to catch up with our sleep. Very nice to meet you, _Herr _Jurgen," he concluded, shaking the man's hand again--very firmly--before turning away, hand slipping back to its original place. Brennan murmured "_Gute nacht_" politely over her shoulder as she moved with him.

"Thank you," she muttered. "He's one of the hardest to…shake off?"

"Right, shake off. And I can tell. What's his story anyway?"

"_Herr _Jurgen is a wealthy German industrialist who transplanted himself to the States," Jack said, hearing the question. "Rumor is that he ran into some trouble back home and had to come here. He donates to the Jeffersonian because of our exhibits. Unfortunately for Dr. Brennan, she's fluent in German, which most of us aren't, and also has some knowledge of ancient artifacts. He doesn't speak English well enough to manage all of the terminology, so when he finds someone who speaks German…" He shrugged.

"I studied the culture behind Chinese sculpture for a while," she said. "Erotic work doesn't carry any real stigma over there; quite the opposite, actually. But Jurgen has a Westerner's prurience that makes the subject distasteful."

"And I'm glad I don't speak German since I know as much as Bren does on the subject," Angela added. "Sorry, sweetie."

Brennan smiled at her. "Not your fault, Ange. Can we go now?"

"Your carriage awaits, Dr. Brennan," Jack said with an extravagant sweep of his free arm. "We were telling Booth before Jurgen jumped you that the driver'll let us off first."

She chuckled softly, eyeing the way he was stroking Angela's hip. "Probably a good idea," she agreed.

"Are you encouraging these hedonists, Bones?" Booth asked, leaning in close as they followed Jack and Angela out.

"I know them," she answered. "I've sat with them often enough on the way home from these things to know what goes on. In fact, they usually drop me off first!" He thought her eyes glinted in the dark as they made it outside where the limo was waiting, door open. Hodgins' hands were a little…busy…as he helped Angela inside, and Booth averted his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Tony," she said, dragging the vowels out playfully and ignoring his grumbles about horny squints. "Let the kids play. After all, they're _engaged_."

Her swift reversion to their old undercover personae gave him a shock that passed from head to groin in a heartbeat. _Whoa_. He shifted his stance and shot her a leer. "Whatever you say, Roxie. But it's not fair to me!"

"What's not fair?" she asked, keeping it up. "Maybe I can make it up to you?"

"Watching them is gettin' me all hot and bothered, Roxie, and you ain't comin' home with me."

She slid her tongue along her upper lip. "That could be arranged," she breathed, leaning on his shoulder.

_She can't mean that! _his mind screamed at him even as every nerve went on alert. With an effort, he broke off his Tony-persona. "How much you drink there, Bones?" he wanted to know.

"I thought you were watching," she purred. "But just enough, Tiger." She tugged at his arm, pulling him towards the limo with a throaty laugh.

--------

She stretched out in the limo once Jack and Angela were gone. "Oh, a little peace," she sighed and began to remove the clips from her hair. It fell in soft waves about her face as she put them into her clutch for safety.

"This is pretty nice," Booth said, relaxing as well and loosening his tie. "Never been in a limo with so few people before." He watched her curiously, wondering what had been going through her mind earlier. He stretched out and began to fiddle with some of the controls to distract himself. It was that or think about peeling her out of that dress. "Bones! There's satellite!" he exclaimed, playing with the TV. "Hey, I forgot the Phillies were playing tonight!"

She laughed at him. "And which war-mongering spectacle is that, again?"

"Baseball, of course. They're winning, too." He let himself relax a little more and settled in to watch the game, babbling stats at her without thinking. She simply leaned back and let him unwind.

--------

"I'll be back down," Booth told the chauffeur outside Brennan's building. "If you don't mind waiting?"

"No problem, sir, and take your time. Mr. Hodgins said to take you home if you wanted."

"Thanks." He stayed with Bones to her door. Once she had unlocked it, he followed her in. With a sigh of relief, she removed the wrap, tossed her clutch onto the side table, and kicked off her shoes. "Would you like a drink or anything, Booth?"

"After all they offered tonight?" he asked, grinning. "Thanks, but no thanks."

She smiled back. "I actually had a better time than usual tonight. Thank you for coming, Booth; I hope you weren't bored?"

"Not at all. I think there's more in-fighting and back-biting at a Jeffersonian gala than at the FBI ones. Educational," he teased and her smile broadened.

He couldn't resist; that open-hearted smile was too appealing and too alluring, and she was standing _right there_, for God's sake. Almost of their own volition, his arms snaked about her waist and pulled her close and then he was kissing her, and it was as sweet and powerful and fiery as he had ever dreamed. Hotter than the mistletoe kiss, which had fueled so many fantasies.

And just like that Christmas kiss, her hands slid up and clutched at his lapels as she responded, clinging to him as though her life depended on it.

And no one was counting steamboats or anything at all.

--------

But they had to break for air, and everything crashed back in on Booth. _Crap! What did I just do?_ He took a step away, making her hands fall to her side. "Good night, Bones," he murmured, avoiding her eyes. "Don't forget to lock up." He backed out the door, pulling it shut, and then bolted.

His thoughts kept pace with his feet as he ran downstairs. _Jesus Mary Joseph, what were you thinking, idiot? She'll kill you, dissolve the partnership, shoot you again. Dissect you on the platform. God, or tell Cullen. I'll never see her again! What the hell happened to your line? But that kiss…it might just be worth it. Hell, hell, hell! What's more important to you, moron? A one-shot roll in the sheets or an enduring friendship and partnership? I didn't really think she had too much to drink, just some champagne, but the way she was acting…like she wanted…she did kiss me back. I think. Sure felt like it…mmm._ His mouth twitched at the memory of the feel of her lips on his, the touch of her tongue…_ Get a grip, dummy. Worry about if she's drunk and whether or not she'll remember this instead. You really __are __an idiot._

He continued to call himself every name in the book all the way down, stopping just inside the lobby door to try and compose himself. There was the watchman in her lobby and Hodgins' chauffeur to get past with a calm demeanor. Wouldn't do for the unflappable Agent Booth to appear…flapped.

--------

Upstairs, Brennan leaned against the door, hand pressed to her lips, speechless. _Wow. Just--wow…_

* * *

K-City, by the way, is Kuwait City.


	5. Taking Stock

This is so, so late; I throw myself upon the mercy of the court!

Thanks as ever to blc for beta'ing and ideas.

* * *

Brennan looked in her closet Monday morning for something to wear. _The first work day after a gala is usually quiet, and it should just be Limbo cases today unless Booth comes by_. She felt a surge of warmth at the thought of him. _So long as I didn't scare him off the other night. Hmmm_, she thought, finding a purple shirt. _Haven't worn this in a while_.

She pulled it out of the closet, along with a pair of close-fitting jeans and a spaghetti-strapped white tank top to wear under it. _That'll do_. After showering, she selected a pair of comfortable boots and a low-slung, wide belt. She had just enough time to curl her hair this morning and found a necklace of amethyst nuggets and irregular silver pieces to wear with her mother's earrings.

But her reflection as she applied her touch of cosmetics almost made her change her mind. _Just remembered why I usually wear the black one under this shirt_, she thought, tugging on it a little. She hissed in annoyance. _It'll have to do--I don't have time to change right now_. She raced out of the bathroom, grabbed her bag and keys, and was out the door, barely remembering to shut the lights off behind her.

The day went mostly the way she thought: a quick meeting to discuss the success of the gala, a little paperwork, two Limbo cases. It had taken them, even with all of her students, several months to not only correct the damage Zack had done, but also to double check that nothing else had been interfered with; but now all appeared to be in order and she could get back to business as usual.

And of course, lunch with Angela. She had very deliberately chosen a vegetarian restaurant none of the others frequented because this wasn't just girl talk--this was _strategy_.

"We were _so close_," Brennan lamented. "But then he broke it all off before we even got into the limo, and then at my door…"

"Yeah, Jim said Booth walked you up, but he came back down not more than 15 minutes later. He also said Booth looked happy, but confused, almost frightened. No, not frightened. Maybe flustered," Angela said. "What happened?"

"Booth looked confused, frightened, flustered?" Brennan repeated, musing. "I'm not sure if that's good or not."

"Depends on what happened at your door, sweetie."

"I offered him a drink, he declined. I told him I had a nice time and hoped he hadn't been bored. He said he wasn't. I took off my wrap and kicked off the shoes and next thing I know, he's kissing me like there's mistletoe." She got a dreamy look on her face and Angela squealed happily.

"How was it? Scale of 1 to 10? Was there tongue? What did you do?"

"I-I don't think I've ever been kissed quite like that. If 10 is the best, I'd have to say it was at least a 10."

"OhmyGod," Angela swooned. "_At least _a 10, on 1 to 10 scale." She fanned herself with her hand. "Wow. Hodgie's in so much trouble tonight, but not until you give me the rest of the details."

Brennan smiled, still dreamy. "Yes to the tongue, too. I grabbed his lapels--I had to hold on, Ange--my knees actually got weak." She sighed happily.

"Did your toes curl? I don't suppose you have any idea how long it lasted, do you?"

"I've never actually had my toes curl," Brennan said, slightly reproving despite being half-lost in reverie. "Not from kissing or any other sexual interactions, anyway."

"Then you're not doing it right, Bren. Now answer the other question--do you have any idea of how long it lasted?"

"None whatsoever. A long time, though." She closed her eyes, sorting through her memories. "Honestly, Ange, I couldn't tell you much more than that, and not because I don't want to. It's more like--the details are lost in the overall set of impressions."

Angela began nodding. "All right, I can see that, and I can't tell you how hot that is! What then?"

"When we had to come up for air, he stepped back." She hesitated. "Yes, there was a strange look on his face that I couldn't make sense of. I thought I knew most of his expressions by now, but that was a new one. He just said 'Good night, Bones,' and was gone. I could hear him run down the stairs."

"Maybe you should have gone after him."

"The way I was feeling? No. I could barely lock my door, much less chase after him. That dress wouldn't have helped in the pursuit, either."

Angela sipped her drink while she thought. "I think, sweetie, that he can't believe you'd do that. He's had the hots for you for years, but he's too gentlemanly to make a move. Plus, and I know I'll probably sound like Sweets here, he values your friendship and partnership above what he's afraid would be a momentary pleasure. And if he thought you'd had too much to drink--"

"Well, what should I do next? I don't think I should knock him to the ground and have my way with him."

"As fun as that sounds, I think you're right, sweetie."

Brennan sighed. "Am I doing something wrong? Am I reading _him _wrong? What if he's really not interested? I mean, with everything I've ever said about marriage and children and religion--we're such antitheses of each other. Maybe he thinks I can't respect his beliefs. I can't understand following them, I admit, but he's so serious and sincere about it which really is the important part of any belief system, and that level of belief certainly helps add credence, and I can certainly admire his adherence to them…"

"You aren't listening, sweetie," Angela interjected, cutting off the downward spiral. "Trust me--he's interested in you. Ever since you came to me that day and asked for help, I've listened to _all _the gossip. He's not seeing anyone. He hasn't seen anyone in over a year. Maybe not since he broke off with Cam. He's interfered with almost every date you've had that he knows about and according to Cam, he wasn't at all happy about you being interested in Jared."

A deep flush ran up Brennan's face. _That was a massive mistake_, she thought, not for the first time. _Booths are not interchangeable_.

"And what about his reactions in London to Ian?" Angela continued, ignoring the blush.

Brennan nodded slowly. "You're right, Ange. You always are on these things." She offered a weak smile. "Sorry I got so-so--"

"Nervous? You've never made this approach before. Don't worry, sweetie--any time your nerve wavers, call me. Now, about what you should do next…"

*********************************************

Brennan straightened and stretched after completing the second skeleton. Both had been unremarkable, World War I casualties, and fairly simple. Angela was working on this face already. The first had been quickly ID'd as one Sergeant Thomas Cox, out of Colorado. The search for relatives was already started, and Brennan hoped there was someone to accept the bones. It wasn't likely that any of his immediate cousins or siblings were alive, but surely _somebody _would know of him.

And she was feeling so much better after talking to Angela, even though she hadn't see Booth all day.

She checked her watch. Almost five. "All right," she told her intern Caitlyn. "Pack them up and once everything is put away, come find me. There shouldn't be anything else, but always make sure. I'll check with Angela about the face. Might not see it until tomorrow, but that's fine. I've finally learned that a few more hours with a Limbo case won't make any more difference. If there's nothing else, you can go home."

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan."

She nodded and made her way into Angela's office. "Any progress, Ange?"

"Only a rough sketch so far, sweetie. How's your afternoon been?"

"Quiet and productive--just the way I like. Unless you're on a hot streak, don't feel you have to finish tonight. I'm feeling mellow," she added as Angela stared at her.

"Thanks, sweetie. Jack'll appreciate it, too--I find I've developed plans for tonight."

"Really? What kind? Or do I want to know?"

"Probably not." They exchanged wicked grins, then talked about the ordinary things they had skipped over at lunch--a new restaurant opening, an excellent wine Brennan had found, random observations about the donors and politicians at the gala, a little more girl talk (this time, the kind that usually sent men running far, far away). A footstep at the door made them look up, breaking off Angela's interesting discourse on vacation sex.

"Booth!" Brennan said, starting to rise. "I was expecting the intern so I could send her home. Is there a case?"

"No! No, there isn't. Hey, Bones," he added, very last minute. "What'cha working on, Angela?"

"A Limbo face that Bren was working with today." She turned her pad around to show him the half-finished face. He didn't notice the quick, sideways glances the women exchanged as he studied her work.

"Was there something, then, Booth?" Brennan wanted to know. His eyes widened slightly as she moved to stand in front of him. _Ooops, forgot about my shirt. Oh well. Just another part of my plan, I guess_._ If an unplanned one._

"Nothing urgent," he assured her, pulling his eyes up with some effort. She pretended she hadn't noticed. "But there's something I wanted to talk to Angela about for a few minutes."

"Oh. Well, I'll be in my office for a little while; I'd like to talk to you if you have a minute. Besides, Caitlyn will be looking for me to find out if she can go home."

"And can she?" Booth asked.

"There's no case, so yes. Since you're here, though, would you like to go to dinner when you're done?"

"That…might be nice, Bones, but only if you eat some pie."

Her eyebrows rose and her mouth curved. "I make no promises!" She slipped out the door with a quick nod to both of them.

"So, G-Man, what can I do for you?"

Booth fidgeted, running a hand through his hair. She waited patiently.

"Look, Angela, I don't know if Bones told you, but…"

She continued to give him her expectant look as he trailed off.

"After the gala…"

Her eyes sparkled. "You jumped each other!"

"What? No!"

She laughed. "No, I knew that. Jim got back far too soon for you to have stayed at Brennan's place for long, and he did say he drove you home, too. Teasing." Taking in his expression, she softened. "Sorry. So what did happen?"

"I-I kissed her."

"I was close," Angela muttered, then snapped her fingers. "That might explain things. I actually heard her humming earlier today, but she wouldn't say why she was so happy."

"Humming? Bones?"

"Yes. I couldn't figure out why. But that explains so many things."

"But--but--"

"If you kissed her, Booth, she has no problems with it." She looked at him and sighed. "You know her. She'd've decked you that night if there was a problem or she didn't like it. And she would have ignored you just now. Or given you her special 'you're a simpleton' look she usually reserves for underperforming students."

"But I shouldn't have done it--it crossed our line…" He looked slightly desperate and more than a little guilty.

"_Whose _line exactly, hot stuff?" she asked pointedly. Idiot was going to argue himself out of it pretty soon at this rate, and she was fairly desperate herself to head that off. "No, she didn't tell me," she lied easily. "But I know her too, and I'd have to say she probably liked it."

*********************************************

_A few minutes earlier…_

"Hey, man," Hodgins said as Booth walked past him.

"Hodgins."

"Something wrong, Booth?"

He paused, shrugged. "Don't honestly know."

Jack frowned, hiding it in his microscope. Dr. B. had been looking rather, hmmm, he wasn't sure he had a word for it. _Content _was too mild, and _happy _seemed a little simple, and _euphoric _was too over the top. But if she was feeling so, well, positive, then the G-Man should be, too. And Booth was staying at his station, which really wasn't his norm, either.

"So what'd you think of the gala?" he essayed, looking back up.

"Interesting. Lot more politics and game-playing than I expected."

"That's what happens when you gotta ask the private sector for money. The FBI is funded by the feds, so you have a different set of hassles."

Booth grimaced. "At least I don't have to get involved with sucking up to Congress. I don't know how you Squints do it."

"Eh, you do what you have to." He watched Booth fiddle with his poker chip. The Agent hadn't been this antsy in a long time, especially without a case. But he couldn't figure out a way to ask what was really wrong.

"How long have you known Bones, Hodgins?"

_So that's the way the wind blows_. "Since she started. I hadn't been here that long myself, when she was hired. She was--all cool-eyed and sharp. Took charge real quick." Angie had promised him some juicy developments, but only after the work day was done, to avoid eavesdroppers. _Eavesdroppers named Booth, that is_. He had a feeling he might already know what she was going to tell him, based on Dr. B.'s and Booth's respective moods.

"How well would you say you know her?"

"Better in these last couple years than then. You've been a positive influence on her, Booth. But she's still…" He shrugged. "She's always been reserved. It took years for us to find out anything about her personal life, and some of that was from Ange. Nothing truly private," he hastily added as Booth's eyes narrowed. "Just the little things."

Booth grunted softly. Hodgins tried another tack.

"How often are you at Dr. B.'s place, anyway? You were awfully free with the beer while we were there."

"Umm…" He fidgeted. Not a lot, but Jack caught it. "Slightly more often than she's been to mine. She's got more room and a bigger table to work on. We've got all that paperwork from our cases and it has to be done some time and we don't always have time during work hours. We're busy people, Hodgins. And partners. That's what partners do.

"And her couch is more comfortable," he added in an undertone, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Hodgins nodded, barely stifling a suggestive smirk. He _was _a guy after all. Dr. B was hot, and he had been hanging around Angela too long not to be infected with her B-and-B matchmaking.

"Ah," was all he said, however. "Well, she's in a really good mood today. Didn't even snipe at the intern."

"Not Wendell, is it?" Booth had taken an inexplicable shine to Mr. Bray, treating him almost like a much younger brother. Though Jack hadn't known that he would go to bat for the younger man even against his partner. He carefully filed that thought away.

"No, that girl that came in after Daisy was fired. Caitlyn." The poker chip disappeared into Booth's pocket, but he didn't seem much calmer. "Social call or case?" He checked his watch. "Just past five. Dinner time--I should have known." He allowed himself to grin. "She might fight you, since she did go to lunch. But then--she might not. She's never been what you might call predictable."

"Which is strange considering her stance on surprises," Booth muttered. Strangely, his mood didn't lighten; Booth tended to reflect Brennan's moods. If told she was doing well, Booth tended to relax or smile a little more; if she was unhappy or supremely mad, he'd grit his teeth and be a little shorter than usual with others. _Something is definitely off_.

Beating around the bush wasn't working, so he decided to try bluntness. _It works for Dr. B_. "Something's wrong, Booth. I can tell. You're not exactly acting in your normal fashion, you know?"

"No, I don't know, Hodgins. Enlighten me." His expression hardened.

_Whoops_. He spread his hands out placatingly. "It's just that you're acting like you've had to release a suspect on insufficient grounds, and I can't see any obvious reasons."

"I do have a life outside work, Hodgins. You know that, don't you?"

_I don't know how she does it when he leans into her personal space like this_. He took a step back instinctively. "Yeah, I do, man. But when you come here, you usually look for Brennan, unless we have a body, in which case you come to whoever's got the info you need. If you don't see her first. But I saw you enter the lab, and you didn't go anywhere near her office. So there's something wrong, and you're avoiding her. I'm not a cop or a detective, Booth, but I do have eyes," he added as the G-Man's own eyes sharpened.

"No. Well…maybe. I'm just a little…" Booth sighed and gave in. "I'm concerned that Bones might be upset with me, that's all."

Hodgins' eyebrows rose at that. "Any reason for her to be?" he asked cautiously.

Booth shrugged, obviously reluctant to share the dirty details.

"So you're dodging her. Smooth, man, smooth. But you know, if she's that mad at you, you would have heard about it by now."

"That's true," Booth admitted, mostly to himself. "After all, she didn't have any problems breaking into my place to yell at me after that mock-funeral."

Hodgins gaped for a moment, absolutely floored. "What?" _Does Angie know?_

Booth flushed, but he was trapped and knew it. Distilling it to as few words as he could manage, he told the entomologist about Bones breaking into his bathroom.

"A beer-hat, a cigar, and a comic?" Hodgins repeated, grinning broadly. "Well, barring the cigar, that sounds like a perfect, ladies-free type of evening to me, Booth. What were you reading?"

"Um--Green Lantern. I think." He wasn't going to admit he remembered every detail.

Hodgins nodded approval. "Do you read any Marvel, or do you stick with DC?"

"DC, mostly. I should've guessed you were a comic book geek, too, Hodgins."

"Hey, man, graphic novels aren't a geek thing--unless you're one, too!" Jack protested, eyes twinkling. "Seems that makes it more of a _guy _thing, wouldn't you say?"

Booth smiled at that, starting to relax with the change of subject. "Thanks for keeping me out of the ranks of geekdom, there, Hodgins. So, what do you read? What lurks in your attic that your mom threatened to toss?"

"Some independents, but X-Men mostly. Wolverine!" He clenched his fists and made little _snickt_, _snickt _noises. "It's almost become a cliché to like him, but hey, we're both short and we're both the best at what we do."

Booth chuckled, feeling more of his fugue lift. "As I recall, he's not a scientist, and holds a grudge against them. Meaning, he probably wouldn't like _you _much."

"Unless I could prove my value and usefulness first. You know," he mused, "I've tried to make adamantium. But none of the ingredients are listed in the comics."

"You would!" Booth said, the chuckle turning into a full-fledged laugh.

"Come on, Booth! Imagine what could be done with something like that, and if I could make something that had the properties of vibranium, we could re-create Captain America's shield. Infinite uses, man!"

"Figures. Once a squint, always a squint, even when reading graphic novels. Have you seen Angela?"

"In her office." He wasn't going to say a word about having seen Dr. B. head that direction just before Booth arrived--or that he hadn't seen her leave yet. He really should have guessed this wasn't going to be easy as Angela thought. _Still fun, though… _

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_So I have revealed myself as a comic book geek! Like Hodgins, I like some independents and the X-Men--or did, anyway--though Wolverine was never a fave. I much prefer sneaky powers, like phasing or teleportation. Happy Bonesday, all!_


End file.
